by Clare Revell
“What did you do?” Austin asked. “Aside from smashing it?”
“I broke it. Must have hit a bollard or something after dropping Isabel home last night. It’s cheaper not to claim on the insurance and just pay to get it fixed.”
Austin grinned at Isabel. “Maybe Zander is the Slayer after all. Isabel, you’d better watch your back.”
“All right. Enough. That’s not funny anymore,” Zander said. Not that it had been funny the first time around either. He cautiously let go of his nose, to find it still bleeding. He sighed and fastened his fingers around it once more.
DS Philips coughed. “OK, let’s get back to this footage. See what else we can learn.”
By the time they’d done that, Zander’s nose had finally stopped bleeding. He crossed to the sink by the window and washed his hands. He frowned down at the running water.
“You know they’re teasing about you being the Slayer.” Isabel’s voice came from his side, startling him. He hadn’t even heard her come over.
“Mud sticks,” he muttered.
“Only if you give them cause. They don’t mean any of it. If they were that worried, they’d arrest you and you know it.” Isabel leaned against the unit, picking at a fingernail. “Trust me; I know about teasing, and when it’s meant and more than simple teasing.”
Zander looked at her. “Is someone picking on you here?” he asked. “I noticed the tension between you and those cops from your old nick.”
“They…” Isabel frowned. “Yeah, I got a lot of stick there. About women not being able to do the job. We’re too weak, too short, too pretty. Only a man can solve crimes, run after and take down a large bloke. If I hadn’t got this transfer I’d have quit. I thought things would be better here, but honestly, they’re not.”
He lowered his voice. “Who’s picking on you? Someone in this room?”
Isabel glanced around. “No.”
Zander’s mind raced. That left four people, five including the Guv, but he doubted it was DI Holmes.
“Don’t say anything,” she said. “It’ll just make things worse, and I want to make a go of it here. At least until this case is done. Then I’ll think again.”
“And do what?” he asked her. He reached into the cupboard and pulled out the chocolate biscuits. “Here.”
She took one and bit into it. “I don’t know. Sell ice creams at the theatre or look after the donkeys on a beach maybe.” She chewed slowly. “Oh, maybe we could go into business together. You kill people, and I’ll hide the bodies.”
“Brat,” he muttered.
She pulled her phone from her pocket. “Speaking of hiding bodies, I want to know what you’ve set for my ringtone.”
He reached for her phone. “No, you really don’t.”
“Uh, yes, I really do.” She hit speed dial and waited, watching him.
Zander wished his phone was on silent. After a moment, The Flight of the Valkyries echoed around the room.
Isabel stuck her hands on her hips. “Seriously?”
He shrugged. “Least you’re not the Guv.”
DI Holmes coughed from behind him. “I’m sorry?”
Zander’s cheeks scorched.
Isabel grinned. The evil woman was enjoying this. “Zander has personalised ringtones for all of us, Guv. I just wanted to see what mine was. DS Philips is Charge of the Light Brigade.”
“Hmmm.” DI Holmes tugged his phone from his shirt pocket and raised an eyebrow.
Zander shook his head. “Guv, it’s fine. You really don’t…”
“Too late.” DI Holmes dialled.
Zander groaned. He would get it in the neck for this.
The phone began to sing.
Zander held his breath, waiting for the Guv to explode.
“Will You Help Me Hide a Body.” DI Holmes roared with laughter. “I wasn’t expecting that,” he managed. “I thought it would be the death march from Star Wars or something.”
“Don’t give him ideas,” Isabel giggled. She looked at Zander. “Go take your car to the garage now, and then we can drive over to Deerwood Estates in the service car to check out Esther Leaney’s house.”
“OK.” He caught her sideways glance at the photos on the desk. “What?”
“Nothing. Run along.”
He nodded, taking a hard look at the photo on the incident board. From just the height and build, the Slayer did resemble him. He had to hope and pray the rumours didn’t extend beyond this room and that the teasing stopped here. The last thing he needed was anyone really making a connection between him and the Slayer.
12
Zander showed his ID at the gates of Deerwood Estates and was waved through. He grunted. “Maybe I should just move in here, the amount I’ve been here the past few weeks.”
“You and me both,” Isabel agreed. “But I can’t afford it. Ever. Besides, not sure I’d want to live here. It seems a bit, I don’t know, cliquey?”
“Snobbish is the word you’re looking for.” Zander swung around the corner.
“And the class system is still alive and kicking in the suburbs of Headley Cross. I used to dream of belonging somewhere as a kid, but never like this. It’d be like being locked in a palace. Nah, it’s not for me. I always wanted a home in the country, surrounded by loads of open space. No one for miles.”
Zander parked and turned off the engine. “Full of ye olde country aroma,” he drawled in a perfect country accent. “Along with giant cow pats and muddy tractor ruts. Up at four in the morning t’milk the cows, feed t’chickens, herd t’sheep, shear said sheep, collect the eggs from aforementioned chickens, and then go to school. Come home and do it all over again.”
“Not on a farm.” Isabel laughed. “Just, you know, somewhere pretty and peaceful and quiet. No traffic.”
“And no way for you to get to work, as you don’t drive.”
“I’ll ride a bike. Or a horse.” She got out of the car.
“You were born several decades too late.” Zander waved his ID at the policeman standing guard outside the house. He and Isabel dodged the tape and went inside.
The SOCO officer was just finishing up. “No sign of forced entry,” she said. “Everything neat and tidy. It doesn’t look as if she was taken from here.”
“OK. Thanks.”
“Zander?” Isabel’s voice came from the room to his right.
“Yeah?”
“She was into art in a big way. Look at this lot.”
Zander glanced around the room. An easel stood by the window, a painting set on it. Several finished works hung on the walls. A card for the gallery stood prominently on the mantelpiece and a brochure for the exhibition lay on the table.
“I recognise this one.” Isabel crossed the room, standing in front of a predominantly blue painting.
Zander stood beside her. “Wasn’t it hanging in the gallery when we interviewed Farrell about the break in?”
“Yep. I remember because I liked it, but the price was way out of my league. Eight hundred and fifty quid if I remember rightly. She must be well off if she can afford that. Never mind all the other pieces she has around the place.”
“It adds another link between the gallery and thefts and the murders. I’ll get the Sarge and Austin to go speak to Farrell.” He pulled his phone from his jacket.
“We can do it.”
“Uh-uh.”
“Seriously,” she said. “You’ll protect me if need be. Besides, I can do this. I have to do this, show I’m not scared of him any longer.”
Zander hesitated, reluctant to put her and Farrell in a room together under any circumstances. Then he shook his head. “You can’t do it. He’s been served a PIN, remember. He’s not allowed anywhere near you.” He scrolled through the contacts on his phone and rang DS Philips. “Sarge, its Zander. I need a favour. Esther Leaney has one of Dominic Higgins’ paintings in her living room. It was in the gallery when Isabel and I interviewed Farrell after the break in. Can you find out when she bought it? It co
st almost nine hundred quid.”
DS Philips whistled. “She’s not short of a few bob.”
“No. Her walls are covered in artwork. I would call into the gallery on the way back to the nick, but Farrell isn’t allowed anywhere near Isabel now as the PIN is in effect. As much as I’d like to drag his sorry backside off to jail for assaulting her, that’s hardly a fair way to do it.”
“I’ll give him a bell now.”
“Thanks.” Zander glanced at the brochure as Isabel waved it under his nose. “It’s called Sunset Over Cat’s Point. Just find out when she bought it. I’m wondering if Farrell knew any of the others as well, but that might be done better as a face to face. Perhaps you and I can go at some point.”
Isabel wandered out of the room.
Zander ended the call and followed her. She stood in the hallway, looking at the winding staircase. “You know what bothers me,” she said slowly.
“What?”
“How the Slayer knows so much about these women. They’re being condemned for their first mistake or what he perceives as such. How did he know so much? They’re not teenagers putting their whole lives on social media for all to see. Need to check if they all had accounts and how locked down they were.”
“Maybe it’s something else.” Zander stopped in front of another painting, this one depicting a religious scene.
“Like what? They were all born on a Monday or something and he hates Mondays?”
Zander snorted. “Now I’ll have that song stuck in my head all day. Thanks a bunch.”
She grinned. “You’re welcome.”
“What if, rather than punishing them, he’s taunting God and their faith. They all went to church.”
“But then why are they guilty? And being marked as such for all the world to see?”
“Because he’s proving a point, perhaps. That going to church, acting holier than thou, doesn’t make you a good person. Look at all the priests being convicted of child abuse. Some people hide behind their religion, use it as a shield to do what they like.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Besides nobody’s perfect. We all mess up every day. Some more than others. He’s simply making a point to the world about it.”
“I guess so.” Isabel shivered. “Should head back and add her to the board.”
He glanced at her. “We need to ring the hospital.”
“Ask about Will. Yeah, we should.”
Zander shook his head. “I was thinking more of your blood test results. Shouldn’t they be back by now?”
“They said they’d ring me,” she said flatly.
He raised an eyebrow.
Isabel tried to look innocent and failed. “What?”
“Don’t you want to know, Is?”
She shook her head. “No. I mean if it’s something that’ll kill me, then it’ll kill me whether I know about it or not, right? So let’s just go back to the office and get on with stuff. Preferably stuff that doesn’t involve hospitals at all until we need to go to the postmortem. Do we have a time for that yet?”
“Not yet. He said today at some point, so maybe he’s already done it. I’ll text him and ask.”
“We should probably take the Sarge and Austin too, since they’re helping now.” She angled her head. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” He worked his phone for a moment. “OK, done. I’ll let the others know and they can either meet us there or come with us.”
“Good.” Isabel grinned. “Then let’s go.”
~*~
Isabel stood back and assessed the board. She’d rewritten it completely, this time putting the commandments down the side in the rows and all the other information in columns. She’d also added a column for sins.
Zander rolled his eyes. “Why?”
“Well, that’s why he’s killing them, right?” She rolled her eyes right back at him. “Because they broke that particular law, so what or how they did is relevant.”
“So you now think he’s a cop not a vicar?”
Isabel scribbled on the side of the board. “Could be. He knows right from wrong. He could be tired of people getting away with a crime. Or he could be a lawyer with no faith in the judicial system. I mean, how many times have drunk drivers been let off with a fine or someone gets community service after assaulting a police officer?”
Zander frowned. “Too many times.”
“Look. Each girl was found marked guilty along with a painting of a commandment she’d broken. So far each one fits. The killer thinks Esther put her parents in a care home because she couldn’t be bothered to look after them herself. He has no idea her mother insisted on it and signed the family house over to Esther, who now lives there. Alone.”
“Her mother did say they put themselves in the care home.” Zander nodded.
Isabel hit the pen against the board. “Yes, but you only know that because Mrs. Leaney told us. To the rest of the world it looks like something totally different. Iona worked three jobs, but lived in luxury with her husband. Ashlyn blasphemed, Brit worked on a Sunday. The only one that doesn’t fit is Sally, because her ‘friends’ made her look like something she wasn’t.”
“OK, I’ll give you that.”
Isabel nodded. “Each girl is also left praying for forgiveness.”
“Just because that’s what it looks like. She could simply be begging for her life,” Zander added.
DI Holmes strode across the room. “Isabel, the hospital rang while you were out. They need to repeat the blood tests they did.”
“Oh.” Her stomach plummeted. “Did they say why?”
“Nope.” He waved a form at her. “Take this. I told them you’d be there this afternoon.”
Isabel grabbed the form and put it into her in tray. “OK.”
Zander checked his watch. “Time to go watch the postmortem. We can do the blood tests afterwards if you like.”
“If we must.”
“Yes, you must.” DI Holmes took the form out of her in tray and thrust it into her hand. “It’s not optional.”
“Fine.” Isabel stuffed the form into her bag, wondering if she could lose it without anyone noticing. She shouldered her bag and headed towards the door. “It’d be different if it were him being a pin cushion,” she muttered.
“No, it wouldn’t. I promise, he’s the same with all of us,” Zander told her. “He cares about his squad. Most senior officers do, but the Guv’s different.”
“I don’t need it,” she said firmly. There was no way she would have any more needles stuck in her. She just needed a good reason not to go anywhere near the hospital.
“Yes, you do. We all want to be loved and accepted. Even you.”
She shook her head, heading down the stairs. She hadn’t actually meant that, but if that’s the way Zander took it, then so be it. If it distracted him from the blood tests so much the better. “Nope. Maybe when I was a kid, but I’m all grown up now.”
“That would be why you weren’t affected at all by Mrs. Kowalski’s death, then.”
Isabel shoved the door to the ground floor open and turned to glare at Zander. “That’s not fair.”
“It’s perfectly fair,” he countered. “See, all of us need it. Being wanted and needed is part of our human make up. Of course, that can only be filled by God ultimately.”
“Someone was listening to the sermon on Sunday.”
Zander pulled the car keys from his pocket. “I always listen. Oh, the garage said I can get my car at five. Do you want a lift home?”
Isabel shook her head. “I have stuff to do tonight, but thanks anyway.”
DS Philips and Austin stood waiting by the service car. “Figured we’d catch a ride with you.”
“Fine, but I’m driving.” Zander unlocked the car. “And we’re coming back via the hospital.”
Isabel shook her head. “No. You can drop me off there.”
“I’m coming with you,” Zander told her firmly.
She glared at her partner. “I’m a big girl, a
nd I can do this alone. Unless, of course, you don’t trust me.”
“Of course I trust you,” he said, hurt flickering in his eyes.
“Then drop me off after the postmortem and come back for me.”
DS Philips eyed the both of them. “Is this a work thing?”
“Personal thing,” Isabel said quickly. She didn’t want everyone knowing the ins and outs of her messed up life.
“Work thing,” Zander countered. “They need to repeat the bloods from that needle stick at the murder scene the other week.”
“Oh, for crying out loud!” Isabel exclaimed. “Tell the whole world, why don’t you? The young, inexperienced female cop screwed up again and got herself jabbed with a needle. Forget it. I’ll go now and take the bus.”
“No, you won’t.” Zander held the car door open. “Get in.”
“This is better than a soap opera,” Austin chuckled. “I could watch you two all day, only we have an autopsy to go to.”
Isabel lost patience with all of them. She waved her hands, giving vent to her exasperation. “Then go. Oh, Mrs. Leaney would like her daughter’s possessions back if possible please, especially her necklace. See you later.” She turned and walked quickly towards the bus stop.
“Isabel. Wait up.” Zander’s voice and footsteps followed her.
“What?” she asked, not bothering to stop.
He rounded her, blocking her path. “Why are you being so stubborn here? Let me go with you to the hospital.”
She scowled. “I’m not stubborn. Just tired of being moaned at about these wretched tests and results.”
His gaze held hers. “You’re scared.”
She swallowed. Was it that obvious? “Maybe a little,” she whispered.
He smiled. “Then we put it off for a while. Go to the postmortem, bring the others back here, and go to the hospital together. OK?”
“I would far rather come back here and work, but yeah. OK.”
13
Zander stood at the observation window in the morgue with Isabel, Austin, and DS Philips. Below them Arend Van Houten and his assistant prepared to begin work on Esther Leaney’s body.
“She’s different to the others,” Isabel said.
